


A New Project

by orphan_account



Category: An American in Paris (1951)
Genre: Artistic Patronage, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 14:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11693235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Milo may have lost Jerry to Lise, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have prospects.





	A New Project

Milo knew she should've been insulted and incensed by Adam Cook's words to her at the masked ball, but instead she was hurt in a way she hadn't been in years. She thought -- _knew_ she was tough -- but his words to her left her feeling unmasked and revealed and she didn't especially like what she saw.

She really did believe in Jerry's talent. She didn't think he'd get it in the neck. All right, maybe he wouldn't be the sensation of the season, and maybe she'd sometimes had a habit of picking the fairly attractive over the outstandingly talented, but not all her...proteges...had been duds, as Adam might put it.

And Jerry had told her all about Adam: his cynicism, his ego the size of Sacré-Cœur and only slightly less sanctimonious coupled with his lack of drive and ambition. But he'd also spoken of his talent, his friendship, the warm and generous core under the skin of his toughness.

Now she'd seen it for herself. He'd spoken to her with breathtaking rudeness, pretending he didn't know who she was until the last second. But under it had been concern for his friend, unfortunately coupled with a lack of faith in Jerry's talent. Milo knew she could make something of Jerry, and the fact that he'd run off with that little gamine wouldn't stop her from doing her level best for him. She wasn't happy that he left her, but he was hardly her first loss and losing him to something that approximated True Love beat the hell out of other ways she'd lost out before. 

Milo, now footloose and fancy free and free for anything fancy, wondered just how talented Adam Cook might be. She'd heard him play a few avant-garde bars at the ball; she wanted to hear more. He wasn't her usual handsome type, but there was something about him she liked.

Maybe it was the way she felt, somewhere in her not-so-calculating heart, that he maybe, just maybe, couldn't be bought. Sure, he needed money, they all did, but not so much that he wouldn't stand up to her. And, deep down, she wanted someone who'd stand up to her. Take her patronage, yes, but not consider himself bought and paid for.

She found him at the cafe easily enough. He played the piano for her and she could definitely spot his potential even thought she knew more about painting than she did music. She still had some of the right contacts to help him out and, God knew, enough money. 

Milo didn't have to put much effort into getting up to his room. "Garret" was the most appropriate word but she rather liked it. And he didn't accuse her of slumming, which she'd half-expecting from him. But he had other things on his mind, thankfully the same ones she did.

It was refreshing that they both knew the score. He made the first move, kissing her with all the passion she'd come to expect from artists. He also kept telling her it didn't mean anything, and she echoed the words back to him. She felt unmasked and revealed all over again, but this time she wasn't repelled by what she saw.

Neither was he.

"I do have more money than nerve," she told him as they shared a cigarette after.

"You've just screwed a man you've barely exchanged ten sentences with," he said and she was oddly excited by his crudity. "You'd have to have more money than God to have more nerve than that."

Milo figured she should be offended by that but she just laughed and didn't bother to tell him that assessment wasn't too far off. "Touché," she said instead with a laugh.

"Anyway, I don't want your money," he said bluntly . "Or your contacts or whatever the hell it is you think you can do for me."

"Very well," she said. "You can always change your mind later," she added. She was determined that this would not be the last time they ended up together in bed.

"Have fun persuading me," Adam said, putting out the cigarette to roll over and start kissing her again.

"Oh, I will, Adam Cook," she promised. She could already see his name in lights at Carnegie Hall in the real world even if he couldn't see it except in his dreams.


End file.
